


An Innocuous Question

by katikat



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Coda, Episode Related, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 21:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13726149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: “That’s the look I used to see in Iraq, on the faces of women who were pressured into carrying IEDs.” That’s what Mac said. But… when was he in Iraq? Jack’s POV. Coda to episode 117. (Unbeta'd)





	An Innocuous Question

**Author's Note:**

> I get that what Mac said in episode 117 about Iraq was probably a writers' short circuit. But! Why not make it a bunny?

“… Which reminds me, Mac: When were  _you_ in  _Iraq_?”

They’re on their way to the airport, moving at a snail’s pace through the heavy rush hour traffic, having finally been officially cleared and released by the Dutch Intelligence. Jack’s behind the wheel, Mac’s riding shotgun, Riley and Bozer are sitting in the back. Actually, Bozer’s hanging over the back of Jack’s seat like an unruly little kid, asking one question after another.

Like this one, for example. When was Mac in Iraq. It’s an innocuous question, really, something your friends would ask out of pure, innocent curiosity, with no hidden agenda or deeper meaning behind it. So, it’s not the question itself that draws Jack’s attention. It’s the silence that follows. Because Mac’s not responding.

Jack glances to the side, at Mac, who’s staring out of the passenger side window, frozen and a little wide-eyed, Jack notices. Huh, how odd. And come to think of it,  _when_ was Mac actually in Iraq? Because, since they first met back in Afghanistan seven years ago, Jack pretty much, more or less hasn’t left the kid out of his sight. Which can mean only one thing…

Having stopped at a red light at a busy intersection, Jack glares at Bozer in the rear view mirror. “What’s with the twenty questions, dude? You know what they say? That curiosity killed the cat. And I swear I’ll strangle you if you don’t stop kicking me in the back! Can’t you plant your ass properly and keep your pointy knees to yourself? Are you twelve or what?” he snaps in an aggravated tone.

Riley grins, amused by their antics, while Bozer huffs and leans back, insulted, and mutters something under his breath, now really coming across as a sulky teen with his arms crossed and mouth twisted in a pout. Fortunately, though, he doesn’t ask his question again, Mac’s trip to Iraq already forgotten.

The light still hasn’t changed yet so Jack throws Mac a quick look. Mac keeps staring out of the window but the tautness is gone from his shoulders. Without looking his way, Mac reaches out and thumps Jack lightly on the thigh with his fist once, twice in a silent thanks. Jack smiles a little.

Then the cars in front of them start moving again and they smoothly join the flow of the traffic, once more headed for the airport where the jet’s already waiting for them.

* * *

“So, Iraq…” Jack murmurs softly hours later, sprawled comfortably in one of the jet’s leather seats.

They’re at the front of the plane, he and Mac, while Riley and Bozer are camped out in the back, asleep. Flying through a clear, moonlit night with the Atlantic far, far below them feels like floating in an ocean of stars.

Mac, who’s lying stretched out on the couch across the isle from Jack, turns his head to look at him - and Jack sees just how tired Mac seems. Being hunted by a foreign government and disavowed by your own agency tends to do that to you. Add to it that it was all a trap set up by your former boss turned traitor who you considered a friend and mentor, and it would drain anyone.

Mac sighs and rolls onto his side, arm bent under his head. “I can’t talk about it, Jack,” he whispers. “Not even with you. I shouldn’t have said anything at all but my mind was elsewhere and–” He sighs and shakes his head a little.

 _Not even with you_. Which means that it’s not a matter of anyone’s ability - or  _in_ ability - to understand what happened back there, in Iraq, it’s something else. Something  _more_.

Mac was in Iraq,  _before_ he met Jack, on one of  _those_ missions. A Black Ops mission. A mission you don’t talk about even with your best friends and loved ones. Jack took part in several of those. And usually, they left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He wouldn’t talk about them even if he could. Ugly business. And Mac was, what, nineteen back then? Sometimes being  _really good_ at your job  _sucks_ , especially in the army.

Jack stares at Mac for a long moment, holding his eyes. Then he nods slowly. “I understand,” he says, softly but pointedly, making sure that Mac knows that he truly  _gets_ what Mac is  _not_ saying. “I won’t ask again.”

Mac stares back for just as long. Finally, he nods, too, and whispers, “Thanks.”

Then they finally fall asleep.


End file.
